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Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Once, when we were in the throws of wedding planning I left hard boiled eggs on the stove for the better part of an hour.

During a stressed out time period before children, I left an iron on and went to lunch an hour away.

When I was pregnant I left eggs on the stove again.

We are beginning this new adventure. Moving a thousand miles away. Trying to sell a house. And working to keep some sense of normalcy around for our kids. We hit up a parade. Went swimming. Are doing summer things. But we are busy. The hubs is starting a new job. In a new city. We are preparing to start a new life and leave some of those who are closest to us. There is stress.

To keep a sense of normalcy (and my sense of sanity) the kids are still going to school two full days a week. Today is one of those days. Got them dressed and into the car like any other morning. And we're off.

My wallet is mobile. That is, I don't always keep it in my purse. I put it in the diaper bag if we are going somewhere I need the diaper bag and I leave my purse because who wants to carry two bags and two kids? So this morning, I grabbed my kids, their bags, my wallet and my coffee and loaded up the car.

On the way to school I hit some papers. I thought, what did I just hit? Looked in the rearview and saw some papers. Thought nothing of it. Back to singing Zipadeedoodah.

Until I pulled into school and realized those were not papers. That was my effing wallet. On a three lane busy road. During 'rush hour'. That was my wallet. My wallet that holds my drivers liscense. My credit cards. Some cash. The kids birth certificates (for when we fly). Holds my life.

Fast forward through an abrupt drop off where I am sure I was nothing short of neurotic. Put the hazards on in the center turn lane and start looking. I was joined by a guy and his dog, and a cop. With his lights on of course.

Found the cash. The drivers liscense (Thank GOD, I was sure I was going to spend the rest of the day driving between home and the DMV for various forms of ID, birth certificates, and blood samples to get a new one). All but one credit card. Even some reciepts. That? Is nothing short of a miracle.

So I cancelled the one card. And need a new wallet. Not bad for how bad it could have been.

Moral of the story? My conscious handles stress just fine. My subconscious? Not so much.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Doesn't get more real. Until my better half leaves in two days of course. Then it's really real.

On the market for 12 hours. Hasn't sold yet. My hopes remain high.

LOL. I hate LOL. Primarily because when someone types it, what they have typed is not LOL funny. I am fine with a simple 'ha!' or a ':)' but LOL? Really? Is it that funny? From my experience it's not. And if it is that funny don't you owe it to the comedian to type it out? You won't ever see LOL from me. Same goes for ROFLMAO. Bothered that I actually know what that stands for.

While we're at it. I don't check in. Not at 'Casa de Best part' nor at Walmart. Primarily because I don't think anyone gives a shit where I am. But, don't get me wrong. I love knowing where others are. So don't stop. I just won't start.

I will not miss people parking at the end of our driveway when we move. I am not talking about blocking the driveway. I am talking directly at the end on the other side of the street. It makes backing out a challenge to miss the mailbox and our other cars and not hit theirs. Yes, I know I have a backup camera, however. Do you have one? Ever notice how much closer things actually are than they appear? Just saying.

So. Ever had to have your house immaculate all the time? With a 2 year old? And a 7 month old (who dare I say it, is considering crawling?)? And a dog? At least summer tv is starting so I will have literally nothing else to do but clean after the kids go to bed.

I know i have been MIA. And it's a good thing. We have been at the zoo and baseball games and playing. We are the picture of temporary unemployment. We are zen. Life is good. Cause it's about to get a tad rocky. So this break? We needed it.

The Best part? Once I finish cleaning every night, I will have endless time to blog. About nothing. Get excited.

Monday, May 16, 2011

A post disappeared. It was called 'follow her husband'. Named that after a headline referred to me in the following way: 'veteran reporter quits to follow her husband'. So empowering. Next week I will be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen where I belong.

If I was a betting woman I would say today I will get a phone all from school about a fever.

Why are two children never up at the same time? Do they plan that? Are they already teaming up against us?

She is finally sleeping all night. Or she was. Now she is getting teeth. She is no longer sleeping.

Hoping to meet with blood suckers this week. I mean realtors. I know, I should be nicer. And as long as one walks in the door, says 'I can sell this place, for a good price, fast, I will be nicer.

The purge continues. I have to say it has been an eye opener. Why do we hold onto crap? Shove it into a closet and worry about it later? It feels so much freer and less cluttered when you just ditch it all.

We had a major trip planned this weekend. We were going to the Greenbrier for four days. We cancelled it. Worried we would spend a lot of money to think about all the stuff we needed to be doing at home. So we are spending a night downtown this week. Eating at our favorite steakhouse. Sleeping. All night. It's not a four day getaway but we will take a raincheck.

I realize how boring the above points are. It's Monday. I will be better. I promise.

On Saturday night we had some friends over. A kid came by to sell some magazines to go to Cancun or something stupid like that. I was barely paying attention. I let him in for a half a second. Then I realized how dumb that was thanks to some ribbing from friends and my husband. So far our stuff is still in our house. I didn't buy anything. I am not that stupid.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Aren't even close to being in the thick of it. Haven't even talked to a realtor. But what we have done, is purged.

There are only four drawers in our kitchen (not counting a junk drawer, this is on the 'need' list for new house) and one of them was utensils. Not eating utensils, cooking utensils. I went through that drawer today. Someone tell me why I had four slotted spoons, five sets of tongs, three meat thermometers, and 800 whisks stored in that drawer. It now has two spoons, a spatula and a whisk in it. Why do I need more than that?

I am taking bets on how many boxes we will open and say 'oh hell, why in the world did we keep this crap?'. This is my current purge motivation.

It was hot today. And humid. To be clear, I am not complaining. I am stating fact. I complained way too much about snow to even consider complaining about heat.

I ran 2 miles pushing the kids in the jogger. I was drenched. It was 10 in the morning. Drenched. This does not bode well for outdoor workouts in Florida.

I have a sweaty kid too. He sweats. Doesn't help that he has a ton of hair and I had him in a polo and undershirt today. Hopefully all of our bodies will adjust. We are going to be a hot mess for a while.

As I said it was warm today. But it wasn't 'let your kid take their shirt off at the zoo' warm. Nor was it 'carry your infant around the zoo in only a diaper' warm. But they did. A lot of them. It was 85 not 120. Just saying.

And while I am at it it was also apparently 'show your ugly ink' day at the zoo. Why anyone would tattoo shoe laces up their spine is beyond me.

Was calling cleaning companies for estimates the other day. I want the house scrubbed floor to ceiling before we list it and I don't want to do it myself. Not even a little bit. One company (MaidPro) told me they don't clean windows or blinds. Um. Hello. Crucial parts of cleaning a house, no? So... You dust and vacuum? You're fired.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Can't ask for more than that. Oh, and the fact that I am changing no diapers today, shopping by myself for myself later, and am doing this, in silence right now.

The Best part? The two year old hugged me and told me I am his hero today.

Oh and this line from the book pictured above: 'My whole life people who ask me about my scar within one week of knowing me have turned out to be egomaniacs of average intelligence or less. And egomaniacs of average intelligence or less often end up in the field of TV journalism.'. Wanna know what I do for a living??? I know a lot of egomaniacs of average intelligence or less. Cause it takes one to know one. Although I like to think I am of at least average intelligence.

Friday, May 6, 2011

Our vet is in a pet store. Our dog is high maintenance. We always go checkout the chinchillas once I muscle in two kids and an 80 pound golden retriever. Today Cannon loved something other than the chinchillas. The 'fancy rats'. No joke. Thats what they are called. On sale for 7.99. Just cause you call them 'fancy' doesn't mean they are. Just saying.

He earned a sticker last night. And everyone slept. No screaming. Nothing. He got up at 6:45 with a super wet diaper. I can do 6:45. We will potty train someday. Soon. I hope.

Today I am finishing my depersonalization of our house. It's kind of sad. But I know as well as anyone who watches HGTV that you can't sell your house with all your own crap everywhere. Also, mirrors make rooms look bigger.

Know what's awesome about your husband being in the final two weeks of his current job? He comes home at like 3.

Derby day! Someday I will get a big fancy hat and watch those ponies in person and drink mint juleps. Even though I hate whiskey. But this year I would rather watch (or not, I don't actually care) with a house full of friends and kids and chaos.

Tomorrow in honor of Mother's day I will change no diapers. None. Zero. Zilch.

Happy weekend Friends :)

The Best part? We all slept. All night. Ok fine, the baby still got up at three but we are working on it.

I made the decision that we should go out for Mexican on Cinco de Mayo. Colossal mistake. Not cause of the obvious 'kids behaving' issue, they were fine. It is not a good idea to have Mexican for dinner when you really haven't eaten carbs in any quantity especially after 3 in the afternoon in a solid four months. We were miserable. Epic failure and a good lesson about how well our current diet supports energy. Energy we need because of nights like last night.

The sticker system is a fail. He is two for five. Bedtime last night was miserable once again. It was a process that started at 7 and ended at 8:30 with a toddler sleeping in his tennis shoes. Why? Cause he wanted them on to sleep and sometimes you chose your battles.

The baby has an ear infection. Well, she had one, last Friday and has been on antibiotics since then. I am not convinced they are working. It also took 90 minutes to get her down.

So in my carb induced coma I decided I wasn't going to dream feed her at 10 like I usually do because she had just fallen asleep. I got in bed at 10 for the first time in months and was asleep within 15 minutes.

Here's how the rest of the night went.

Midnight: Cannon screamed. No idea why. Just screamed. Then went back to sleep.12:45: baby woke up for a passy1: woke up to the dog puking. Little worse than dog vom in the middle of the night.2:30: he screamed again. No idea why. Again.3:25: baby woke up to eat5:45: baby woke up for a passy.6:10: Cannon is awake, screaming, out of his bed and making an attempt at waking the neighborhood.6:30: baby wants to eat again

Seven to seven. He used to sleep seven to seven. We used to sleep too.

Maybe he's getting teeth. Maybe he wakes up soaking wet (side note, we should have forced the potty training when he was interested but I was too deep in my holy crap I have two kids and no energy funk because now he's not even remotely interested in going on the potty). Or hungry. Or maybe he has an ear infection. Or maybe he doesn't need that two hour nap he takes every day.

Whatever it is I am totally over it.

I would never put a TV in my child's bedroom. I never had one, they won't either. But this morning at 6 I would have gone to Best Buy, bought one, and had it installed if it meant some sleep.

Coffee. Now.

The Best part? The weekend is here and I know what I want for mothers day. A soundproof toddler bedroom.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

The toddler is at school and the baby is sleeping. I should be doing something else. A million other things.

Have you ever been super excited to read something that justifies the way you feel/act/think? Color me super excited. Right, wrong or indifferent.

I was reading What to Expect the Toddler Years yesterday. Cause I hadn't picked it up in a while and there have been occasions in the last few days/weeks that I mistook my sweet little boy for the spawn of Satan. Turns out, he's normal.

Anyway.

I came across the following as an answer to a question about a mother-in-law who insisted that her grandchild eat what everyone else is eating:

When your mother-in-law did her mothering tour of duty, toddlers were no less picky, yet catering to their quirks was considered inexcusably indulgent. The dinner table was a tight ship run by the adults of the house; balking at rations of baked chicken and green beans and demanding peanut butter sandwiches instead was considered mutiny. You ate what was put in front of you, or you were denied your just dessert.

But things have changed. It's now accepted by dietary experts (though not necessarily by grandmothers) that you can't make her eat what's put in front of her, at least not without precipitating an ugly battle. And ugly battles fought over food in childhood, studies show, too often leave scars--in the form of eat disorders, abnormal eating habits, and/or weight struggles-- that can last a lifetime.

Eating should be a pleasant, unpressured experience for a child, guided not just by an adult's good sense, to a large extent by her own hunger, tastes and appetite.

Letting a young child go for months on nothing but cereal, milk, and pasta, or bread and cheese (assuming a few well chose fruits and/or veggies are thrown in for good balance) isn't indulgent or irresponsible, but perfectly acceptable. In fact, there's something inherently unfair about insisting that children eat what's put in front of them, when grown-ups enjoy a great deal of freedom of choice at the table.

So let her eat cake (fruit-sweetened, whole grain, carrot cake, for example) and milk for breakfast instead of the oatmeal everyone else is having. Or a bowl of cold cereal with bananas and milk for lunch instead of the tuna sandwiches on the menu. Or cottage cheese and cantaloupe for dinner instead of the salad and fish you're eating. Make the foods you're serving an option should your toddler impulsively decide to break from her traditiopnals favorites, but don't pressure her and don't let anyone else pressure her, either.

Hallelujah.

Amen.

I stress a lot about what Cannon eats. When he eats. A repertoire of corndogs, chicken, fruit, and orange crackers at the present time. 'Some kids are just picky' I tell myself all the time. 'When he's 3 I will make him eat what we are eating' is my current mantra. Was my current mantra. Until I read this little gem. It makes sense doesn't it? I swear I didn't write it. But I will live by it.

That's my time for today folks. Lots of love from me coming though... I have blog posts on the brain!

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Disclaimer: if you feel like this is something you should have learned with a phone call or email or text message, I am sorry. It wasn't an intentional move. I am up to my eyeballs in overwhelmed (not a noun, I know). Forgive me.

I have been promising some big news for a little while now. This is it.

I am not pregnant.

I have been writing this post in my head for about a week or so. Debating what to write, how to do justice to how difficult this decision has been, how to make sure the people who we love know how much we love and value them and their friendship.

If you don't live near us, know us, and are just one of my loyals who I love, then you probably couldn't care less. So consider this a precursor to some really fabulous stressed out posts. Those are my best ones. They involve extreme sarcasm, often cursing, and will almost always make someone laugh. Or roll their eyes, at the least.

Ok. Enough stalling.

I grew up in St. Louis. By 'grew up' I mean I went to most of elementary school, middle and high school there. When I refer to where I am from, that's what I mean. That's home. I mean not our actual home. But it's where my parents live. You get the point.

Sometimes opportunity knocks.

I was born in Tampa. Lived there until I was 9. I have one friend, a lifelong friend, who I keep in touch with from there. But she lives in Chicago (remind me to tell you how I gave her a manmade dimple sometime... Don't mess with me). My grandparents live in Tampa. So do an uncle, aunt, and cousin. My parents lived there for a quarter century or so. There are countless family friends who haven't seen since I was in 3rd grade wearing stir ups and double layering my socks.

Sometimes it knocks loud.

Maybe it's naive, I never thought we would leave the Midwest. It's comfortable here. People are nice. We are within driving distance of a lot of family and friends (who we should have made an effort to see more). What's not to like?

Knock, knock.

We just put up a swing set. We have fabulous neighbors. A house we love. Life is good. It's easy. It's happy.

Knock, KNOCK.

We have good jobs, a great daycare, a baseball team we have fallen for, big city life without subways and trash in the street.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Most importantly, we have family here. Sure. We are not blood relatives. It doesn't matter. We are family. Our kids call each other 'aunt' and 'uncle' and we love each others kids like our own. We have 'pajama' friends. You know, the kind of friends you don't vacuum for? The ones who don't care if you don't shower. The ones who know you better without makeup and five inch heels. We spend our weekends together. We drink mimosas at play dates. We laugh at each other and ourselves alike. They are our family. Our best friends. We cherish them. Cherish.

ANSWER THE EFFING DOOR!

About six weeks ago a random phone call from a headhunter got a ball rolling that we couldn't stop. From the beginning we said 'if it's meant to be, it will be'. We said they would make the decision for us.

It was meant to be.

They made the decision for us.

We are moving. To Tampa. Holy shit.

The emotions really run the gamete. I am mostly excited, ready to tackle the move, and thrilled while the sun is up. When the sun sets, I am hesitant, sad, and stressed. But this is right. It is supposed to be. So I will cope with the emotions by making a binder, making lists my bitch, and owning this thing.

So. Wanna help? Send house selling thoughts. Pray we don't lose our asses on our house and that the right buyer appears in the first 30 days. Mkay? Can you do that for me? Thanks.

So there you have it. Our big news. Here's to a new adventure!

The Best part? Gee, let me think. Disney? The beach? Closer to family? Terrific new challenge for my better half? The list goes on (in no particular order of course).

Night one of the sticker chart. Worked. He went to sleep. And the first thing he said this morning was 'me get my first sticker for my chart mommy?'. Victory.

Before bed we talked about how after five stickers he will get a prize (thanks to my friend Michelle for the suggestion) and this is how it went.

'I want one (holding up one finger) car!''OK buddy! When you get five stickers we will get you a car!' 'I want two (holding up two fingers now...) cars.''We'll see but we may be able to arrange that.''I want a talking Racer Queen (LighteningMcQueen)!!!'

I think I am being manipulated. Can't say for sure but something is fishy.

But you know what? If there aren't anymore miserable bedtime routines then a talking Racer Queen it is.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Got nothing to do with the mister. Let me tell you a little about bedtime. Mostly because I hope that by blogging about it, it stops.

It's a phase. It's always a phase. Right?

Bedtime is the same every night (except that we don't bathe our kids EVERY night, judge away). We get pj's on, brush teeth, read books, sing songs, drink milk, and say goodnight after 14 different trips in for kisses.

Or we used to.

Now, it's more like this. Read books, talk about the day, drink milk, sing songs (usually originals made up by the aforementioned Mister), do a million kisses, cover up, and he gets up and he gets out of bed screaming.

The problems are several. First, when he gets up screaming, he wakes up his sister. Cause she freaks out when she hears him crying. No. They are not in the same room. They are across the hall. Still. Any sign of distress from the big brother and she is wide awake and crying. Also, he is not in bed. And it drives me NUTS. Like trying to control my temper nuts.

I would leave him in there. I would. I know he would eventually get back in bed and go to sleep. But. The baby waking up is not good.

Tonight while I was working to get her back to sleep I decided we needed a sticker chart. We usually bribe with suckers but fear of a future dentist's bill has me turning to stickers. So every night that he goes to bed like he is supposed to, he will get a sticker. They will be taken away when he does not go to bed well.

It's a plan at least. I have to have a plan. I am a planner. Will let you know. Also think I should be reading my 'What to Expect the Toddler Years' more often. Yes, I know it should be underlined but typing on the iPad makes that a pain. Open to suggestions that don't involve screaming toddlers.

Also, I know I have been absent. There are big things coming from ...the Best part... Just hang with me. It's coming.

Also, I was living in New York on September 11th. I watched the second tower fall. Not on television. In person. I will not be screaming in the streets over bin Laden's death. I don't scream in the streets over much (save a bid night or two) but I will just say that I am glad that son of a bitch is dead. And I am fascinated by Navy SEALS. And the whole covert op.

The Best part? He's deader than a doornail. I hope the guy who shot in was at point blank range and offered some choice words that let him know how we all feel about him.